


Don't look at me like that.

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Dungeon Raoul, Gen, Past Erik/Christine, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post-Canon, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 21:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18322376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: Christine ran away from her "marriage" to Erik two days ago, and Erik hasn't been to visit Raoul's cell since.The mannequin does not approve.





	Don't look at me like that.

After Christine ran away, Erik didn’t visit Raoul’s cell for two days.

Properly, he knew, he ought to strangle the young skunk. That was what he’d told Christine he’d do if she didn’t stay with him. Strangle Raoul, or something worse—his mind conjured up plenty of horrors, but somehow none of them seemed fitting, or worth doing. He sat in his parlor and thought about what he could do to Raoul, and what he could do to bring Christine back, and what he would do if she led the police to his lair, and on and on, all the possibilities, while in reality he could not bring himself to rise from his chair.

He thought for a bit that he was dying. Of love, of grief, of loss. Of anger—she had been supposed to stay with him! Of apathy, because she was gone and there was a part of him that didn’t even care, because before she left, she’d been gone from him for some time anyhow, in spirit. She had been a living bride in body with her soul elsewhere, with no love to give him at all.

He didn’t visit Raoul’s cell for two days, unsure what to do about the boy. Usually he visited twice a day to bring him food, but it was pointless to bring someone food when you thought you might be killing them soon anyway. So it was pointless to visit Raoul. He felt just a little restless at the hours when he would usually have gone down, but not restless enough to actually do something. He ate his own dinner and breakfast and lunch, and didn’t think too hard about it. When he faced Raoul he’d have to tell him that Christine had run off, and then face the boy’s reaction: Joy, because his lover was free? Fear, from the knowledge that her freedom would cost him his life?

He didn’t want to face that yet. He didn’t like the thought of either reaction. Usually when Raoul looked at him, it was with a vague wariness—sometimes Erik caught him asleep, face blank of emotion altogether—and these expressions were safe, they caused Erik no guilt or anger. He didn’t like feeling guilty over Raoul because Raoul did not deserve his regrets. And he didn’t like getting angry at Raoul because he might hurt him… not that that mattered anymore…

But on the third day after Christine ran away, he became aware of eyes on his back. He turned to see the source, which he had already known: the mannequin. She looked at him passively, accusatorily. _What_ , she said, _so you are afraid of a boy?_

“Don't look at me like that,” Erik said, “And I'm not afraid, but there's no need to feed him now, is there? No need to keep him alive. I could let him starve, for all it matters… for all she cares…”

Whether Christine cared or not, the mannequin did, for she continued to stare. _Starving a man to death is not like you. You like to see the man’s face_.

“For once I’d rather not.”

_Are you afraid to face what you are doing? Are you afraid to face the emptiness of your own life? He is all you have left, you know. She has run off and left you, leaving you with only him… and me, if you’ll listen to me._

Erik groaned and put his hands over his ears. Of course, since the mannequin was not really speaking, this accomplished nothing. She continued to chatter on and on about Erik’s cowardice and his abandonment, until at last he snapped at her, “All right, I’ll go see the boy! Will you be silent now?”

_I am always silent_ , the mannequin said, _except when you make me sing your own thoughts for you. But I’ll as you wish, as always_.

And she said no more.

Erik got together the scraps of the previous evening’s dinner and brought them down to Raoul’s cell. There Raoul sat on his cot, and he greeted Erik with a scratchy voice, for he had not had anything to drink for two days. This would not be good for even a man in the best of health, and Raoul was far from that. But in fact Raoul had grown so used to infirmity and to the irregularity of Erik’s moods that he did not suppose anything in particular was wrong. He knew Erik had been gone for a long time—he supposed something must be going on—but he did not think it mattered all that much, now that Erik had come down again, and he did not bother to ask what it was that had kept Erik away. He had asked Erik such questions before, and Erik never answered except to hit him, and so he had stopped asking.

Erik, who usually appreciated Raoul’s silence, today found it shocking. To him it was obvious that there had been a calamity, that the world had fallen down around their feet. He had assumed Raoul would sense it immediately. But Raoul only accepted the food and drink gratefully. He drank the water carefully, a little at a time, having learned from previous experience that it did not do to break a fast overeagerly.

“Christine is gone,” Erik said abruptly.

Raoul shot him a glance, but he supposed Erik must be taunting him again about how Christine was no longer his but Erik’s, so he said only, “I know, monsieur.” He half-wanted to tell Erik there was no need to beat a dead horse, but he did not have the energy for a fight, so he only continued to drink water quietly.

Erik, meanwhile, was even more shocked than before. So! Raoul knew everything, and must know he was marked for death, but had so little reaction. He had known Raoul to be a stoic before, but never to this extent. He wasn’t sure whether to find it admirable or hateful; in the end, like so many of the Vicomte’s qualities, he decided it was both.

“I am going to kill you, you know,” he said.

Raoul shrugged. Again, it seemed to him more of the usual gloating.

Erik wanted to strangle him—he was being too casual—but he had raised the water to his lips again and there was something too awkward about grabbing a man’s throat while he was drinking, so he kept his hands at his sides. The fingers twitched a little. “Have you no fear of death?”

Raoul swallowed. That was an easy question. “Not in some time, monsieur.” He could have said something about how easily he’d die if it would save Christine’s life, or something heroic along those lines, but he had been lonely the past two days, and the truth slipped out: “Not since long before I knew you.”

“You are a puzzlement, monsieur.”

Raoul, who thought he was all too simple, only shrugged.

Erik sighed. “I won’t kill you today.” He hadn’t the heart for it. “We’ll see about tomorrow.”

He went back to his parlor, where the mannequin seemed to be amused at him. She was far more the proper wife than Christine, far more interested in his affairs. She asked him, _So? You do not want to be alone._

“No, but I keep my promises. I promised I’d kill him.”

The mannequin was silent, but she watched him. He sighed, and went to his organ, and began to play for the first time since Christine left. Old chords of _Don Juan Triumphant_. He’d never thought he’d move past that play, but he had somewhat. He didn’t care for it as much anymore.

He let his hands rest. “Fine. I won’t kill him. For now.”

The mannequin made no answer, but he thought her eyes were pleased. He brought Raoul dinner later in the day, and he did not talk about Christine or death. Soon, he thought, he should move Raoul into his house instead of this cell, but maybe not yet. For now he would let the house lie empty, for even full it had brought him little happiness. Marriage, he thought drily, was not for him. Yet one could not be without companionship entirely, and a mannequin, while better than nothing, was not quite enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Idek guys. I chose a random prompt from a list and it was "Don't look at me like that", and,... somehow... this happened. I hope someone enjoyed!  
> Comments are very welcome :) or come hang out with me on tumblr at convenientalias.tumblr.com


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